


Hidden Agenda

by crazywrite



Category: Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 03:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazywrite/pseuds/crazywrite
Summary: The prophesy of Ragnarok mentions next to nothing about Sigyn, the faithful wife of Loki. But she won't have that—she's the goddess of fidelity, after all.





	Hidden Agenda

Sigyn knew that her brother-in-law was not blameless. For as much as he cursed his blood brother’s existence, he had done many things that the Aesir would shudder and gasp at.

He’d had sat idly by as his son, the most beloved of the Aesir, spasmed and bled out, the mistletoe’s white berries stark against the wounds in Baldr’s neck. He had allowed a jotunn into his hall, giving the “mason” a short amount of time to finish the wall and once Odin realized he would complete it by then, forced Loki to distract the stout horse in any way possible. In the end, the Aesir got to smash in a jotunn’s skull in their territory, the wall was done save for only a few blocks, and the mighty Sleipnir was born.

She was reminded of the shell-shocked look in Loki’s eyes after he’d weaned his son and returned to his normal form. A blank stare, full of confusion and hurt. She knew that the colt had been conceived under less than ideal conditions. He cried for hours and all Sigyn could do was hold him close. 

And then there had been Angrboda and the three children. Although they hadn’t been married at the time, she’d felt a pang of jealousy as the servants relayed the story of how he had laid with the jotunn witch and they had three beastly children—Fenrir the wolf, Jormungand the serpent, and Hel the half child. When Odin offered his blood brother permanent residence in Asgard, Loki agreed with one condition: his children were coming with him.

They were an interesting sight as they walked up the Bifrost. Loki held the hand of his daughter who was already a ghastly sight, the entire right side of her face devoid of skin and exposing the bone underneath. Fenrir bounded on his father’s heels, excited for the new adventures that awaited him Asgard. And finally, little Jormungand that coiled around Loki’s shoulders like some sentient scarf. Despite the gasps and cries of the Aesir, Loki seemed genuinely happy with his family around him.

When Sigyn married him, they’d been at their wedding. Despite their monstrous visages, they acted like any siblings and caused havoc whenever possible. She accepted them as her children; although she had not been one to carry him, they were the children of Loki so that had to account for something.

  The casting out of Loki’s children had been a shock to both of them but it affected Loki more as he watched helplessly as, one by one, his children were cast out of Asgard. Hel was thrown down Yggdrasil, eventually landing in Niflheim, the land of the dead where she now reigned as its Queen. Sigyn remembered the events clearly. Hel had been playing with Baldr when Frigg pulled her beloved son away from the demon child. Odin heard the cries of his wife and made a decision. “I, Odin, Allfather of Asgard, cast Hel Lokadottir out of Asgard,” he said and threw her down with quite some force. It took hours for her screams to cease.

And then came Jormungand. He grew so fast, dwarfing their small hall in less than five years and Bilskirnir in ten. No one knew where to put him so after a council, the giant serpent was thrown into the massive ocean that circled Midgard. He grew even more so that he circled Midgard multiple times over. Many of the creatures in that watery world were mere snacks to Jormungand so he gnawed on his own tail to curb his hunger.

Fenris was the last to be chained. Like his brother, he did not know his strength and he had inherited his father’s boastful streak. So when the gods said that he couldn’t break a unique pair of chains, Fenris had accepted the challenge with little thought. Unlike the iron and steel that he could break, these silk fetters were seeped in magic and Fenris found himself completely bound.

He hadn’t gone into the bet blind, however. “I will accept,” he said, “if one of you has the balls to put your hand between my jaws.”

Only the mighty Tyr had been brave enough to accept the wolf’s challenge. His bravery—or was it stupidity?—cost him his right hand. Fenris had bit his hand off at the wrist and smirked at his former friend as he swallowed it down.

It was this final nail in the proverbial coffin that sealed Loki’s fury. She held him as he cried angry tears, whispering things that were no doubt treason. Sigyn said nothing as she stroked his hair and comforted him until he fell into a deep sleep.

“If it’s any comfort, I feel the same way,” she whispered in Loki’s ear.

Sigyn sat up from the bed, hoping her poor husband wouldn’t awake without her beside him. Her footsteps were light but sure as she walked down Valaskjalf’s halls. It was eerily silent as she walked to a set of rooms she hadn’t been in for centuries.

When she banged the door open, Odin looked up from his ruminations in front of the fire. His fingers gripped a horn loosely and from his posture, it was obvious he’d had quite a few.

“Sigyn,” Odin muttered. “What are you doing here?”

She walked up to him and yanked the horn out of his hands. She looked down and saw that the liquid inside wasn’t mead or the Allfather’s favorite wine; it was clear like water but had a sharp scent that invaded her nostrils.

“It’s called vodka,” Odin said. “It’s from Midgard. Incredibly alcoholic.” 

“Mmn,” Sigyn muttered. Of course it was from Midgard. He seemed to enjoy that world more than Asgard nowadays. “Trying to drink yourself into a stupor?”  

“I’m trying.” Odin rubbed at his empty eye socket. His one blue eye stared resolutely at her, warning her. But Sigyn was not afraid of the Allfather’s wrath. She was married to the embodiment of mischief. 

Sigyn walked to the chair opposite Odin and sat down, bone tired and fed up with her brother’s shit. Looking Odin dead in the eye, she lifted the horn and downed the vodka, its burn anchoring her to the world.

After a good pause, Sigyn spoke up. “Why?”

His sky blue eye darkened with an incoming storm. “You wouldn’t understand, dear sister. It is something bigger than all of us.”

“Oh, so treating your blood brother as the scum of Asgard is part of your plan?”

“It’s fated by the Norns,” Odin grounded out. At his feet, Geri and Freki lifted their heads in confusion at their master’s sudden rage.

“Why do you take Mimir so literally?” Sigyn snapped. “He’s a decapitated head that died as a prisoner of war. He’s bound to have some resentment.”

He frowned deeply. “So you’re saying that Mimir was lying to me when I received the prophecy?”

She shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”

The two sat in silence before Sigyn stood. She could feel the alcohol taking effect much quicker than the dining hall’s mead. Apparently Odin hadn’t been downplaying vodka’s potency. Odin watched her with a guarded expression, betraying nothing of his true thoughts.

She walked out of the room but hesitated at the door when she saw Odin’s head rise. “Who are you and what have you done with my sweet sister?”

A savage chuckle ripped from her chest. “Dear brother, you’ve only seen what you wish to see. I can be just as savage as you if the mood strikes me.”

She left then and thoughts of Ragnarok swirled inside her head. The prophecy didn’t say anything of her but she wasn’t going to stand idly by.

She wasn’t the goddess of fidelity for nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that's been sitting in my files for a while. I've always enjoyed the idea of a Sigyn with a bit more of a backbone and this is what came out of that. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, leave a kudo or comment.


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